I'm Gonna Getcha Good!
by purrpickle
Summary: Collaboration with Deeha. One-shot for Pezberry Week #3 Day Six: Intoxication. Santana normally wouldn't be caught dead in a country bar, let alone a place named Bobby's Barn. But yet, here she is, having been dastardly wrangled in by Tina. At least, she grumbles at the pitcher of beer while watching Tina sing karaoke on the stage, Rachel's supposed to come soon. Please. Complete.


**A/N: **I don't own Glee nor the characters within, nor any of the songs referenced. This is collaboration with deeha for Pezberry Week #3 Day Six: Intoxication. Check out her work. She's _wonderful_.

Anyway, enjoy~

* * *

Santana Lopez normally wouldn't be caught dead in a country bar. She knows this for a fact. Let alone a bar named, "Bobby's Barn." That's just lame. But Tina had just bought new Jimmy Choo boots and practically bullied Santana into joining her, so, crap, here she is. If it hadn't been for the promise of the first round being on Tina, as well as the assurance that Rachel was going to join them once she's finished meeting with her agent, Santana wouldn't have bothered. She is not one for country or line dancing or whatever the hell else straw covered inbred yokels liked. Lima Heights Adjacent, remember?

But anyway. They're already at the country bar, and Santana is pretty much screwed. Thank god it's beer night, she thinks, staring through the pitcher Tina had ordered earlier as if it were a fishbowl. Staring sightlessly because that was _much _better than acknowledging where the fuck she actually is. Honestly, when had Tina become a country music aficionado? Because, there, on the two ply stage singing Rodney Atkins, the chick is obviously having _way _too much fun.

"Really?" Santana mumbles incredulously at the pitcher, "When did Asian Flavor go Western?" Cringing as the girl does a strange line-dancing shuffle, pointing at her, Santana feels like bashing her head against the table. "Right," she smiles fakely, nodding at the girl, "Just keep doing that.

"Far, far away," she finishes into her beer, shifting on her chair and looking towards the door. Seeing a very butch blonde dressed in a vest, plaid shirt, and everything Santana does _not _find attractive practically undressing her, she glares back.

"I changed my mind," she turns back to Tina, "Come back."

* * *

Tina plops down on the wooden bench next to where Santana has been methodically getting drunker and drunker. "My boots are the bestest."

"I thought you said she was coming at eight," Santana grumbles, ignoring everything else Tina has to say because it really _isn't _important, taking another healthy swig of her beer.

"Mmhm, I did," Tina agrees, not looking away from the rugged cowboy she's been making eyes at - a fuckin' cowboy, _really_? Like, okay, Santana may have bothered with the guy back in her "straight denial phase" as he had the goods, but, she can't help laughing to herself and judging; because seriously? A _cowboy_? - for the past hour and whenever she hadn't been looking at Santana during her song. "You just need to be patient," she adds with a tilt of her head, obviously thinking she's being alluring by making weird duck faces at the man.

"Patient!" Santana and Rachel have been playing this _game_ for far too long to be _patient_. "And _stop _that. Peking Duck's not sexy at _all_."

"Stop being so _racist_," Tina honest to god _whines_, throwing a glare Santana's way, "And you _wonder _why Rachel hasn't tripped all over herself to be in your arms?"

Santana is stunned; rarely does she get spoken back to, the action so miraculous that she misses the rugged man thing she's had plenty of time to judge coming up beside Tina to say, "Howdy."

The slow judging neck turn commences. "You're kidding me. We're in New York, idiot. _Not _the Alamo."

It doesn't stop Tina from leaving her alone with the practically finished pitcher and the unsettled feeling about this thing with Rachel, however. "Great," Santana accuses her beer, snapping her fingers so a big busted waitress knows she's not playin' and orders another, "Stuck. Even without the freakin' weirdos."

* * *

Two pitchers in, and Santana is feeling pretty good. Tina has long since come back with her lover boy, surprisingly _not _Brokeback Mountain fodder, and Santana's giving as good as she gets as the guy - Donald or Terry or Paul something - asks her about the entertainment business.

Suddenly, hearing the strains of Carrie Underwood's 'Last Name' coming from the karaoke machine and some black-haired chick absolutely _bombing _it, Tina is clutching Santana's arm and practically hyperventilating as she dares Santana to show the rest of these hacks how it's done.

And, somehow, Santana finds herself agreeing.

It _has _to be the shots of tequila Tina had convinced her to take.

* * *

"Love is like a heatwave!" Santana belts along to the current karaoke song because she can get down with a Linda Ronstadt song, if not Carrie Underwood again. It isn't so long after that that she is pulled onto the dance floor and finds herself mimicking Tina and the she still can't remember his name cowboy.

Even better, Santana knows she's drunk because she is just about to put her name on the karaoke list to sing Paula Cole's, "Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?" when the bartender suddenly becomes the line dance caller.

"Yippee!" Santana shouts and in her mind her other self is asking her how that word found its way into her vocabulary, but like, who the hell cares? It's _line dancing_, not doing _lines_. Stuffing the voice inside of her head telling her she's being ridiculous, Santana allows Tina to latch onto her arm and pull her into the crowd. 'Sides, no one has a camera, right?

* * *

Santana makes this look good. She knows it. Like everything else she does. You tell her to swivel? Santana has _perfected _the swivel. No mistake, her hips do not lie.

She is so immersed and deep in the song and following the rules, it isn't until she makes a three quarter turn to the back wall that she sees Rachel in the room. Almost immediately, she pauses, ignoring Tina crashing into her, and affixes a giant smile on her face as she crosses the room.

Even if Rachel doesn't want to dance, Santana'll still, like, come on to her.

Duh.

* * *

Rachel is all red cheeks and windblown hair, having obviously had to catch a cab and hurry across town, asking for a mixed drink as soon as she hits the bar. She's never been one for beer, so Santana isn't surprised. Still, her drunken mind flashing images of her feeding Rachel her own drink in her own, well, "special" way, Santana can't help leaning heavily against the bar next to her, smirking sexily. "Took you long enough," she husks, partly from her flirting and partly from how much she's been sweating on the dance floor.

Accepting her drink, Rachel turns toward her, lips pursing around her straw. "I'm sorry," she smiles, answering primly, "But it looks like you've had enough excitement for the both of us."

Santana snorts. "Maybe," she rolls her eyes, sweeping her thick hair behind her ear, "But this scene, I'm promising you, ain't Santana Lopez' normal territory."

"Is that your way of saying you're glad I'm here?" Rachel tilts her head, bright eyes searching Santana's.

Opening her mouth, Santana squints her eyes and looks pointedly at the other woman. Before she can answer, however, Tina bounds along and pounces on Rachel. "You're here!" She's also sweaty and excited and Santana will bet anything that she's gotten to second base with her cowboy.

"Hi, Tina," Rachel smiles,"I am - "

"Ew," Santana glares at the now _interloper_, barely noticing Rachel speaking at all, "In a country bar?"

"Yeah, like you wouldn't wanna go there with your Broadway Star - "

"Hey Rachel do you want a harder drink!" Santana shouts, trying to stop Tina from ruining any game she might have left. Tina is easily distracted, and agrees, "Yes! I think you need a shot! Whiskey?"

Rachel makes a face and then Tina gets a better idea, "Tequila! Oh! Body Shots?"

"Jello body shots might be interesting..." Santana muses, not even positive she's said it out loud until she notices that the cowboy is looking at her instead of the eagerly chattering other women. She glares at him. "Razor blades in my hair, dude," she hisses, "So. Nada."

He raises his hands in silent supplication, obviously cowed.

Santana smirks. Every time.

* * *

It's an unknown amount of time later and their group is now reclaiming the table Santana had been originally using as a stand for beer pitchers to stare through.

Magically, a tray of tequila shots are at their table with a bucket of limes, Santana not far enough along to not relax when she catches a waitress slipping away. She may be drunk, but she ain't stupid. Turning her attention back to the tiny woman in the criminally _hot _dress that fits her _perfectly_, she grins when Rachel lines up her shot of tequila, salt shaker, and lime. Well, okay, she laughs. It's _so _Rachel Berry.

Rachel looks up at her. "If it's in order, its easier for me to drink it," she explains.

"I suppose that's one way."

Rachel laughs and asks, "How else do you do it?"

Santana doesn't even think about it for a second. She takes Rachel's wrist, turning it and bringing it to her lips; she meets Rachel's gaze, purring, "Sit back, relax, and let Auntie 'Tana be your guide in the wonderful world of body shots."

Rachel's eyes get big and even though she knows what Santana is going to do, Santana can tell she's still nervous. Sure, the shorter woman'd been a willing participant in this... game she and Santana have been playing, but... it doesn't mean her body - or mind - is ready. Fully. One hundred percent. No matter how much she actually, honestly wants this to happen. Santana doesn't blame her. She's hot stuff.

Anyway, Santana doesn't back down from Rachel's stare, and she smiles as she leans down to press her lips against Rachel's inner wrist. She can feel the woman jolt but not pull away, so she takes that as permission to let her tongue slip out to lightly trace along the veins underneath her skin. Rachel's wrist tastes like a mixture of salt, Santana's drink, and the slightest chemical-ness of perfume she can smell on her. It's perfume Santana had gotten for her for her birthday. Santana smirks. "Chanel No. 5, hmm?" Rachel blushes, and Santana affects a deep sigh. "Too bad," she shifts her fingers around Rachel's hand, pulling her arm closer, making Rachel's body sway closer in balance compensation, "Your wrist is out. Fuckin' sexy perfume, though. You should thank whoever got it for you." She winks.

Clearing her throat, Rachel gently tugs her arm back. "Alright, then," she coyly tucks her hair behind her ear, obviously having gotten some of her equilibrium back, "What would you suggest next?"

"_More shots_!" Tina suddenly yells into Santana's ear, "Everyone needs _more shots_!" Spying Rachel's still waiting for her on the table, she snatches it up, downing it. "Woo," she snorts, giggling, turning to her cowboy, "You're really hot."

The man smiles. "Thank you kindly."

Anything else he says is cut off by Rachel's incredulous, "She drank my shot."

"Too slow," Tina grins at her, turning back to who, for all intents and purposes, should be her date.

Rachel looks up at Santana. "She drank my shot," she repeats.

"We do have more," Santana points out distractedly. She's not really listening. Rachel's still close. Still devastatingly sexy. Even a country bar so stupidly called "Bobby's Barn" can't change that.

So, like, why aren't they kissing yet?

Oh. Right. Santana's ear is still ringing from Tina's shriek and they were about to get their body shots on instead. Clearing her throat, letting a smirk cross her face, Santana slides two of the tequila shots far enough away from Tina's tunnel vision towards Rachel. "Here. Drink one now before the liquor ninja notices."

Rachel snatches it up, doing as Santana says. "Ugh," she splutters, slamming the shot glass down and grabbing her chaser, "Do we _really _have to drink _this_?"

Santana, who had been watching Rachel's neck and cleavage and everywhere below her face, throws back her own shot instead of doing something stupid. That she really wants to do. A lot. Something that involves her tongue and teeth and lips and Rachel's skin and, and - "Body shots!" she exclaims in lieu of answering. "Because I was gonna show you the ropes."

"And they have to be with tequila?" Rachel's face is pink.

"Yup!" Tina giggles, popping back into the conversation. "Ooh," she digs through her pocket, yanking out her phone, "I'm taking pics!"

* * *

Santana wonders how she got where she is. Currently waiting on Tina to shrug out of her longsleeve overshirt, exposing her shoulders and thin straps of her dressy top, she's a little put out that it's not going to be Rachel after all. At least cowboy guy looks suitably impressed. Maybe he should do this instead.

Rachel's suddenly behind her, her arm draping around Santana's waist. "Maybe," she whispers loudly, "You should let Robert do it."

Robert? Was that the cowboy? Oh well, she didn't care. "Why?" Santana just as loudly whispers, leaning back into her, "You jealous?"

Rachel makes a very poor attempt at a noncommittal noise. "I'm secure enough in our friendship to not feel threatened by how attractive Tina is." After a second, she continues, "Which is very."

"Very very," Santana agrees.

Throwing her head back and laughing as her arms get stuck in her overshirt, needing the cowboy's help, Tina _is _looking rather attractive. Santana doesn't feel bad staring because it's obvious Rachel is too. "You sure _you _don't want to do it?" she teases.

Rachel huffs, lightly slapping her arm.

* * *

"I want to ride the bull," Rachel slurs a little while later after each member of their group has had a go at the tamest body shots ever in the history of Santana and body shots. Stupid country bar. If they were at Santana's, she'd have been _all _over Rachel, that sexy dress crumpled on the floor of her living room. But they're not. So Santana's been steadily drinking to make up for it.

Rachel, the ever clingy drunk, reaches over to Santana and whines, "Santana, I wanna ride! Let me ride!"

Santana lets Rachel lean into her, happy to allow any physical contact between the two of them. Rachel glides her little hand into Santana's and walks them over to the mechanical bull.

However, Tina races past them to the mechanical bull first, not forgetting to tug along her cowboy. She holds her hand expectantly out for a dollar, and he gives her one right away. Santana likes that this guy has basically paid for the whole night; he was definitely working the 'impress the girl's friends' card.

Unless he was expecting to get a four-way happy ending, then nuh-uh. But Santana's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and, honestly, he doesn't seem the type. He, like, Santana gags, seems to embody the good ol' boy thing. It strangely isn't as annoying as it could be.

But anyway. Tina has beat them to the bull. Seeing Rachel's pout, Santana pulls her closer.

The bull rears up, and Tina promptly falls off. Well that didn't last long.

But her cowboy is there to help her up and convince her to try again. So she does. And falls off again. At least she looks like she's having fun. And feeling up her cowboy. It's classic Tina.

* * *

Fifteen tries later, it finally seems like Tina's had enough. Rachel bounces in Santana's arms, practically vibrating. "My turn, my turn!"

Santana smiles and is about to get out some cash, but the cowboy's somehow already beating her to it. "Here," he smiles, laughing at Rachel's enthusiasm and pushing a dollar into the machine, "Allow me."

What the hell? Santana's about to say something about cruising on her turf - there _is _a difference, kay? - but Rachel is already saddling the bull. Apparently, even in a (_hot_) dress, Rachel is determined to gets her bull riding on. The cowboy is lucky because as soon as Rachel lifts her leg over the saddle, Santana's eyes and full attention are glued to them. Rachel tucks her dress daintily underneath her and lets her legs dangle on the sides. Like she is going on a ride in the county on a thoroughbred and not on a mechanical beast in a country bar. Santana is about to warn her, to like, hang on for her life, but Rachel flicks her hair out of her face and pats her dress down. "I'm ready!"

Santana is pretty sure this is going to be over quickly. Probably sooner than Tina's attempt (on second thought, no). If Santana remembers right, Rachel is not at all athletic. Wasn't she the one with the bright idea to just lie on the ground during the football game for that one homecoming game? And Rachel hadn't been that very good in dodgeball, either. But she did look really good in those shorts. Really good. It wasn't like Santana had missed a couple of shots or been hit by the ball because she'd been looking, or anything. Nope.

The whirring of the bull starts and Rachel is a bit unsteady. But soon enough, she grips the saddle and finds a motion and her hips move in time. Santana watches Rachel buck against the bull and giggle. Really? The girl is on this crazy machine that is trying to throw her off and she's giggling?

But the important thing is that Rachel is riding the bull. She's bucking against it, her hair is flying around her face, and she has on a big bright smile.

But it's probably the possibility of seeing underneath Rachel's dress that makes Santana sweat. Rachel's dress flaps against her legs showing more and more skin, and Santana wants to see more. And maim everyone else in the bar who can see it who is not her. Rachel's _hers_, mmkay? No me gusta. She growls at the butch blonde from earlier who looks to be enjoying the show a little _too _much.

The longer she watches Rachel (and the longer Rachel continues staying on), the harder Santana is finding it not to drag Rachel off the bull and into the nearest dark corner. She's wild and talented, and Santana _wants _her. Wants Rachel to ride _her _like that.

It's all she can concentrate on.

* * *

As soon as Rachel's ride ends, Santana is at her side, grabbing her wrist. A couple of seconds later, Santana's slamming her into the back of the bathroom door. It's such a cliche, but she's not thinking about that right now. She's thinking about Rachel's mouth just a scant centimeter from hers, her sweaty and flushed skin sliding under Santana's fingers as Rachel reciprocates with her hands in Santana's hair. "Why are you waiting?" she whimpers.

Santana pushes closer, feeling Rachel's thighs rubbing against hers. "Just paying you back," she smirks, having to keep back a low moan as their hips press and meet each other.

"Paying me back for what?"

"For that display. Your legs," husks Santana, as she can't get the image of Rachel's legs kicking against the bull.

"These legs?" asks Rachel as she traces her fingers up the side of her leg and slowly lifts her dress up.

Santana looks down and breathes hard against Rachel's cheek. She kisses her gently but roughly pulls Rachel's leg up beside her to move closer into her personal space. Soft skin is all that she feels, and even though she is bringing her hand up towards Rachel's waist, it feels like forever because Rachel is all leg. It takes Santana two seconds to realize that Rachel must be wearing a thong because she finally reaches a very thin string.

She moves her hand to the small of Rachel's back and explores. Rachel must know what Santana is going to discover because she places her hands behind Santana's neck to gently nip below her ear. Santana returns the affection and ghosts her lips against Rachel's neck before she sucks at her jumping pulse.

"Santana, just touch me."

But Santana wants to tease her a bit more and plays with the string by rubbing it against Rachel.

"San - "

Santana grins that she has awed Rachel into silence, but would very much like for Rachel to, "Tell me, baby, what you want."

"San. I - "

And, like every time before, out of nowhere, Tina is barreling through the door, shoving them backward. Blinking, disorientated for a bit, as soon she notices them, she's at their side demanding, "I _knew _you were in here! I wanna sing Taylor Swift!"

After a second of disorientation herself, Rachel whips her head around and squeals, "We can sing? Oh that is just a superb idea! Let's sing! Tina, have I mentioned to you that I love your boots? I know the perfect song!" Santana's instantly forgotten.

Santana rolls her eyes, doing her best not to show her pout. They were in the _middle _of something, okay? _Okay_? "Of course you know the perfect song."

Tina squeals and is excitedly jumping up and down because someone actually noticed her new boots. Santana dies a little when Rachel leaves her so she and Tina can hold onto each other and squeal.

* * *

Santana doesn't recognize the opening notes of the song, and it's almost ridiculous when Tina starts singing, "You keep saying, you got something for me. Something you call love but confess." Santana can almost feel what's coming next, and Tina continues to sing Nancy Sinatra's "Boot are Made for Walking." She points repeatedly at her boots when Rachel gets to sing the chorus, "These boots are made for walking. And that's just what they'll do. One of these days these boots, are gonna walk all over you!"

Beyond the pointing, Santana notices that Rachel has very sexy boots on as well. She adds that to her list of 'major fucking turn-ons'. She shifts in her seat; her underwear is long since ruined. Continuing to watch the show, she wonders if she should just take them off. Rachel winks at her. Oh _fuck_.

For the next verse, Rachel seems to gain control over Tina and they execute some go-go choreography. Which, okay, involves some swimming arms, but also a lot of shaking, shimmying, and high stepping. Rachel is shaking her body up and down and pretending to spin a lasso in the air.

At some point, Tina stops singing and just shouts into the microphone, "My boots, my boots, my boots!" and Rachel is just laughing and pointing at Tina's boots.

Drunks.

* * *

"I need to call Lauren! I need to tell her about the One Hour Steak Challenge next week! Where is my phone? Santana? Do you have my phone? Oh. Wait. It's in my hand. I got it!"

"Tina I swear to god, give me that menu! No more drinking for you!"

"You can't do that! Rache, tell her she can't do that!"

But Rachel is finishing off her rum and coke, and waves her hand to ignore the two.

Tina succeeds in calling _somebody _when Santana gets stuck staring at Rachel. "Lauren? Lauren Zizes? Are you there? It's me! What do you mean who? It's Tina!" Tina points to her phone and makes a funny face as if Lauren is crazy. Santana just stares at her. "Lauren. Wait. Wait! I need to tell you something. Yes. How did you know I can't feel my face? Yes. _I am drinking_. Wow, you are like a psychic!"

Santana rolls her eyes and wants to take the phone away from Tina, but before she can do that Rachel is pulling her to the dance floor. "Pay attention to me!"

Santana has no problem with that. Especially the part where Rachel has her leg in between her thighs. It's only logical that Santana pulls Rachel's hips closer to her and nuzzles her neck. That blonde chick is on stage singing (badly) to Shania Twain's "I'm Gonna Getcha You Good." Santana jumps in at the chorus and sings to Rachel, "I'm gonna getcha while I gotcha in sight, I'm gonna getcha if it takes all night. You can betcha by the time I say 'go,' you'll never say 'no.'"

Rachel is basically Santana's at this point. The woman is breathing against her, and Santana doesn't mind one bit that her hair is sticking to her neck. She rubs her thumbs in circles on Rachel's hip bones, enjoying her quiet appreciative moans.

"I want to take you home."

Rachel starts. "San...?"

"You heard me." Nibbling on Rachel's earlobe, Santana sucks in a deep breath as Rachel's arms tighten around her shoulders, bringing their chests together. God, the smell of Rachel's sweat and perfume and shampoo is making Santana delirious. She slips her hands back to palm Rachel's ass. "I want your dress on my floor, your thong thrown somewhere in my kitchen. I want to take you on the table, the couch, anywhere your tiny body can fit."

Her breath hitching again, Rachel's mouth is hot and warm against Santana's collarbone. "Santana," she moans.

Santana swallows, licking her lips. She's still making them sway, somehow, with the music even if the singer is _terrible_, and her fingers tighten around the ass that's been taunting her for _way _too long. "Are you wet?" she whispers.

Rachel trembles, sucking in a deep breath. "Since I saw you line dancing," she laughs, "Who knew Santana 'Lima Heights Adjacent' would be into line dancing?"

Growling, Santana nips Rachel's jaw. "And you riding that bull?" she reiterates, drawing her nose along Rachel's cheek, pulling back to stare into her almost blown brown eyes, "God, I wanted to _take _you." Rachel's lips part. "I wanted to _be _the fucking bull."

Fingernails dig into the back of Santana's neck, pulling and catching at her hair. "If," Rachel's voice stumbles, her lips searching for Santana's, "If we weren't here, I'd, I want you to know, I'd want that, too ."

Santana locks her arms around Rachel's waist. She pushes her tongue into Rachel's mouth. God, she's combusting, the feeling of Rachel's thigh between hers and hip bones grinding into hers _long _overdue. _Why _hadn't they done this before? Rachel's _perfect _against her. Hot and like electricity against her skin and the bunching fabric of her dress. She's so wet she wonders if Rachel can feel it.

All she knows is that she wants to feel Rachel. Now. "Can we go somewhere?"

Rachel is slow to look up but pulls Santana into a searing kiss, taking her time to savor the bottom of her lip. Santana grips at Rachel's hips and pleads, "_Rachel_."

At that, Rachel pulls them to back to the mechanical bull area, in the dark corner of the room. The crowd is rowdy and everyone at the moment has their eyes on the current busty rider. But not Santana. No, her eyes are directly on Rachel.

When Rachel falls against the back of the wall, Santana falls forward into her. She likes that Rachel laughs into her chest and cranes her neck up expecting a kiss. Santana smiles and doesn't let her wait too long.

Santana has both her hands holding Rachel's face, and once Rachel gets lost in kissing her, she traces her fingers down Rachel's body. Her thumbs slide over Rachel's chest, and when Santana brushes against her nipples, Rachel sighs hotly. Santana gets the chance to suck on Rachel's tongue, and Rachel's knees buckle. Santana can't stop, and her hand is instantly underneath Rachel's dress. Their undulating bodies are relentless and Rachel tears her head away to catch her breath. Santana hesitates, thinking maybe she's taken this too far, but Rachel groans, "_Please_. Touch me."

Santana quickly looks around to see if anyone is watching them. She doesn't have a lot of time to search, though, because Rachel is pulling her back, crashing their mouths together to muffle her moan as Santana's fingers find the right path again.

Rachel's wet. Really, really wet. Santana has the idle thought that if the woman were any more wetter, any more hotter, she'd be burning her fingers. As it is, she can't hold back her hiss as Rachel opens her legs for her. Even through her underwear, she's ready.

Tracing the line of her thong, swallowing her groan as she pushes under the crotch, circling around to slide fully under it, cupping her, Santana shifts her body more so she's covering Rachel. She never expected their first time to be in a bar, but she's too far gone to care. Rachel's writhing under her, hips canting up, trembling as Santana tries to make her stop being so obvious about what they're doing. Her fingers slip along Rachel, Rachel's teeth practically tearing at Santana's lower lip. It's hot, _so _hot, and Santana rewards her when her teeth scrape across her tongue. Like, _fuck_. If this is how Rachel normally is, Santana's set for life.

Santana wants to be set for life.

As an incentive, she curls her fingers, barely brushing across Rachel's clit. _God_, she can barely control herself as Rachel shoves down onto her. "_San_," her voice cracks, "S-_stop_. _Playing_."

Santana exhales. Truth be told, she doesn't want to be playing either. "You want friction or more, baby?"

Rachel's tongue wraps around Santana's. "More."

Barely waiting for her to stop talking, Santana locks her wrist tight, pushing her thigh harder between Rachel's to keep her open. The tips of her fingers nudge back, circling her as Rachel tries to shove herself closer. Santana makes it on purpose that there's no fanfare or warning before two of her fingers push into her, barely past her entrance.

Rachel's tight. Really, really tight. Tight and hot and slick and Santana moans because she's never felt like this, alcohol be damned. Tensing her upper arm muscles, she waits for Rachel to unclamp enough for her to slide deeper. "Rache," she whispers roughly into Rachel's ear, the girl having arched her neck back as she grinds her hips into Santana's, "Talk to me. Tell me how this feels." She pushes deeper. "_Tell_ me."

Rachel pants, managing to somehow _quietly _chant, "Yes, there. _There_." She rolls her head back, bearing down on her, "_Mmm, fuck_, San! So _goooooood_." It's the first time Santana's heard Rachel curse. She likes it.

She likes it even more when Rachel puts her hands on her breasts and thrusts her hips roughly against Santana's fingers. Twisting her wrist, she gives an exploring spreading of her fingers, trying to figure out if she can add another... Until she remembers she's not even fully inside of Rachel yet. God. _Fuck_. She still has another knuckle to go. It's hard to tell because Rachel's so wet that it feels like she's all the way in her already. Pulling back, making the weakest attempt at looking around again _ever_, she growls a, "_Fuck it_," and fully sheaths herself into Rachel.

Rachel bites Santana's neck but it doesn't muffle her scream at all. Thank goodness the crowd is cheering for whatever is going on away from them. Country bar stuff. Whatever. Santana's knuckle deep inside of Rachel and has her pulsing around her. That's all she cares about.

She has a sheen of sweat on her forehead but Rachel's body is just as hot. Rachel unabashedly lowers herself up and down on Santana's fingers, and Santana has to refocus on the task. She wraps her fingers around Rachel's waist while her others move in and out of Rachel, "Let me," she murmurs deeply into Rachel's ear, "Just, _uhn_, push your leg up higher."

"Too obvious," Rachel gasps. She reaches to squeezes Santana's fingers that sit on her waist. They thread their fingers together and Santana's heart thumps harder.

Still. Santana slides her teeth along Rachel's cheek. "_Higher_." In emphasis, she pushes harder, her thumb gliding forcibly around her clit, groaning at how hard it is.

Rachel buries her face into Santana's chest, her free hand moving to clutch the top of Santana's dress. She's mewling as her thighs shake around Santana's, Santana lifting her leg to push against the back of her hand to make her thrusts harder. "C'mon, baby," she grunts.

"Kiss me first."

Santana opens her eyes. "Of course," she says like it's obvious, and it really is.

Rachel's lips taste like her excitement, like what Santana had been missing. "_Ohh_," she whispers, mouth sliding along and around Rachel's again, "_Oh_." She barely notices when Rachel's fingernails bite into the back of her neck, pulling her closer. All she can focus on is Rachel's mouth and her violently rippling walls. _This_, Santana thinks, pushing her body closer to Rachel's, _this _is what she wants.

Rachel is gasping against her, her breath thick and tumbling around Santana's. "Oh," she squeaks, pushing up on her tiptoes before forcing herself down again and again, "San. San. Yes. Yes. Yes."

"God Rache, you're so beautiful." Santana moves her lips just to the side of Rachel's mouth, not wanting Rachel to stop moaning her name. Still holding each other's hands, the girl guides Santana's arm around her waist, and Santana finds she needs the anchoring as much as Rachel does. Pitch black eyes meeting hers, Santana is full of desire all over again. Even though her leg is still pushing against her hand deep inside of Rachel, it isn't like Santana hasn't been rubbing against Rachel's as well. Sliding another finger into Rachel, breath hitching at how she just _accepts _her, no matter how tightly she's rippling around her, Santana knows she's leaving evidence of how turned on she is against Rachel's _fantastically _muscular thigh. They stare into each others' eyes and agree without saying that this is something more than just tonight.

"C'mon," Santana whispers, knowing Rachel can still hear her over the music and pounding energy between them, "Baby." She pushes roughly into Rachel, curling her fingers as she rolls her hips harder against Rachel's thigh, "Come for me." Fuck whoever can see them. Right now, at this moment, she _needs _Rachel to come for her.

Rachel's gasping harder and harder now, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Clutching Santana to her, she smashes her head against Santana's cheek. Her whole body is shuddering, so wet that Santana gives up trying to have any finesse. It's obvious fast and dirty will work best, so she sets her legs, pressing her forearm against the wall, sliding her hand behind Rachel's back and angling her lower body into a better angle to work at. Her fingers press and search and rake against the rough patch inside of her.

And _fuck_, is Rachel one of the most responsive women she's been with. Every little move she makes different, Rachel's body fucking _judders_, her teeth gnashing and chewing on Santana's neck. "Oh, San, oh, god," she's clenching tighter and tighter around Santana's fingers, rolling, pulsing, and Santana grits her teeth, _thrusting_, harder and harder and _harder_, _deeper_, "There there there there _theeeeeeeeeeeeeere_."

When Rachel comes, her words slide into high pitched breathy sighs into Santana's ear, the fucking most sexy thing Santana's ever heard. Her body slumps after arching whip-tight for practically a minute, Santana pressing in closer to keep her upright, lips kissing and sucking at Rachel's jaw and ear, whispering calming words she's not even sure she knows what she's saying as Rachel's walls still milk and suck Santana's fingers deeper inside her.

Santana wants more than anything to move against Rachel's thigh - her whole body is aching for it - but even through the burning in her body, she understands that anymore outward motion could upset their luck and bring them closer to dangerously being caught. Besides, she can feel Rachel's hammering heartbeat in the palm of her hand, her small body still vibrating with the force of her climax, and, for once, it isn't as important for herself to get off. For once, she's completely ready to just let her body wind down.

But when Rachel says, "Look at us, Santana. Mmm... You're so _sexy_... _Fantastic_..." she does as she's told and the sight of Rachel's leg glistening makes Santana clench and press forward, letting Rachel hold her upper body as she grinds down into her leg, rough and sloppy and, _fuck_, there could be a full house tonight but her mind is clouded with only thoughts of Rachel rolling and arching a second-winded strong upper thigh and hip in between Santana's legs, crashing and rubbing in a practically obscene way, her hands clenching and tight around Santana's hips. They can't be obvious, they can't be violent, but somehow Rachel is still _there_, where Santana needs her. Still, _god_, she needs more anchoring. Sliding her fingers out of Rachel, out of her thong and dress, her groan mirroring Rachel's at the loss, she claps her hand around the the back of Rachel's neck, the brunette's hair slithering through her fingers. Fuck. How, oh _god_, how is Rachel so _sexy_?

Santana knows if she was grinding down any harder against Rachel, she'd be hurting the both of them, but she can't help it. She's been on edge even before Rachel had arrived. Not helped at all by how clingy Rachel gets while drunk, and that bull ride, and then this? Oh god, Santana realizes, her eyes widening as she slides her hand from Rachel's neck, replacing it with her other one, oh god, she can _taste _her.

So she does.

Slithering her tongue out, teeth unconsciously biting into her pointer finger as Rachel practically _combusts _as she notices what Santana's doing, Santana groans as Rachel's taste fills her mouth. Oh. Oh fuck. Santana needs more. Needs Rachel on her bed as Santana dives between her legs.

And that's it. That's exactly what Santana needs. Burying her head into Rachel's neck, biting sharply just above her collarbone, eliciting a high-pitched whine from Rachel's throat, she comes, bucking and frozen and babbling something she really hopes she doesn't remember in the morning.

Yeah, she groans, licking along Rachel's jaw, whimpering as the girl swallows and nuzzles into her hair, her underwear is fucking ruined.

* * *

They're still coming down minutes later, hands lightly brushing along each other's skin, breathing deeply and taking a while to relax. Letting out a deep breath, thumbs massaging Santana's lower back, Rachel finally chuckles and quietly sings, "Good, so good."

Santana smirks, getting the energy to push back just enough to meet Rachel's gaze below her mussed, sweaty bangs. "Told you _I'd Getcha Good_."

Rachel laughs really hard and says, "I'm starting to like country music." Santana smiles and kisses Rachel a few more times just because she can. Even when she lets up, Rachel still has her eyes closed and lips ready for more. Santana laughs to herself just a little before giving Rachel more kisses.

A few hours ago, Santana would never admit to liking country... But she certainly likes it now.

No... She can't help but slip her tongue into Rachel's mouth, swallowing her laugh, she likes what it gave her too much.

* * *

When they eventually get back to the table, Tina gives them a wide, beaming and obscene smile. "Finally," she mutters, snuggling into her cowboy's embrace. Neither Santana nor Rachel feel the need to reply. Instead, they exchange smiles. Finally, indeed.

However, "More shots?" Tina asks hopefully.

"No!" Santana and Rachel snap, only to laugh at each other, leaning into each other. Santana likes this new aspect their relationship.

Tina sulks. "No fair."

Her cowboy just smiles, "Hot wings?"

* * *

Rachel's glaring at the fuckin' _amazing _hot wings on Santana's plate. She'd agreed with the idea that she should eat something before she blacks out, and, like, hot wings are _ace _(not to mention she's fucking _hungry _from satisfaction and pride and the reality of what _happened_), but that doesn't stop Rachel from glaring at them. Santana reaches out and lifts Rachel's chin up with her pointer finger. "They're already dead," she says.

Rachel still frowns at her. "I'm not kissing you again until that's _completely _out of your mouth." Her jaw sets.

Santana stares at her. "Give me a toothbrush," she narrows her eyes at the other woman, "Because I sure as hell don't have one."

"Don't have what?" Tina pops in, stealing one of Santana's wings from where she's sitting on Clint Eastwood's lap.

"Hey!"

Tina blows her a raspberry. "C'mon, what don't you have?"

"A toothbrush," Rachel informs her, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms, "Though it's not needed because I _do _have one."

She does? Awesome. Santana picks up a wing, smirking at her.

Rachel looks away. "Now where did my purse go...?" And her ass is suddenly in the air as she's looking underneath the table. Santana takes another quick bite of a hot wing and watches the _free show_ in front of her, it only getting better when Tina joins her in her search, shifting and rocking on the cowboy's lap. Somehow, he's being polite and not making it obvious he's enjoying it too much. Must be his southern charm. More points in his favor, Santana decides. She still thinks he's ridiculous for being a cowboy, though. Because, _really_?

"Found it!" Rachel exclaims, brandishing the toothbrush before slapping it down in front of Santana.

Well, in that case... "Another order of wings," she tells a passing waitress, smirking at Rachel, "And whatever the hell she wants that is vegan."

Rachel's eyes go wide. "Santana..." she breathes, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Santana's neck, "You just won yourself some points for remembering I'm vegan even _while _drunk!" Her fingers press against Santana's arm. "You're wonderful. Even if you do eat murdered birds."

The two are about to kiss again despite Rachel's earlier statement, but Tina stands on the table and shouts, "I love this bar! I want pancakes!" She whips her head around, batting her eyelashes at her cowboy and demurely asks, "Can we have pancakes?"

* * *

Mr. Cowboy must have some sort of in with the cook because, before Santana knows it, a plate of pancakes is being slid in front of Tina. "Whoah!" Tina _squeals_, planting a giant kiss onto the cowboy's mouth, "How'd you _know _I love pancakes?"

Santana steals a pancake when the duo gets too into their kiss. She grins when, instead of chastising her, Rachel kisses her affectionately.

Five minutes later, it's Tina and her beau who have to break them up.

* * *

The rest of the night seems to pass in blurs of kisses and naughty touches, Rachel's laughter and nose cold against Santana's neck. She feels good, really good even if she and Rachel don't have sex again (she thinks), and she thinks maybe they sang a duet of their own, but really all she can remember is Rachel's voice in her ear and the girl excitedly jumping on her, legs locked around her waist in celebration of another kick-ass duet. Finally, somewhere near closing time, Rachel's head nestled into her shoulder, Santana knows she wants to sober up before she forgets everything. Catching Rachel's gaze, she smiles at her, brushing her fingers across the back of her hand. "Hey," she leans down to whisper, "Want to come home with me tonight?"

Rachel bites her lip. "To sleep?" she whispers back, "Or...?"

Santana laughs before she can help it. Kissing away Rachel's frown, she nuzzles the top of her head, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her in, hands smoothing along her stomach. "I just don't want this to end," she admits quietly, figuring there would be no harm in letting her guard down, just this once. "I finally..."

Soft lips she's beginning to become intimately acquainted with press into hers. "Me neither," Rachel beams, snuggling into her side, "You're... You're just perfect."

Santana swears it's her drink that takes her close to tears. Damn alcohol.

* * *

It's finally the end of the night, and the cowboy is helping carry Tina out to the cab line. She's practically boneless against him, almost drooling into his plaid shirt, but it's like he honestly doesn't mind at all. He turns to Santana, asking, "You sure she'll be alright?"

Rachel giggles, flipping her hand in the air. "Don't worry," she hangs onto Santana's shoulder, snuggling into her arm around her waist, "She's almost always like this after a giant presentation, so she's had practice. Probably will stay away from alcohol for a while, but she's never been in any _real _danger. She's actually been a lot more tamer tonight than usual."

"Probably 'cuz she was hoping to save a horse tonight," Santana smirks.

Rachel gasp-laughs. "Santana." Her fingers tighten around Santana, and Santana smiles.

But Rachel suddenly sobers and asks, "What about you? Do you want to save a horse? You know, I actually passionately care about horses. Those poor animals, I just - we should go and rescue the horses right now!" She turns to run away.

"Rachel! Wait! Come back!" shouts Santana.

But luckily for Santana, Rachel only turns to step into Ricky - Joe - Wilbert - what the heck is his name? The cowboy is laughing and holding Rachel by the shoulders, "Whoa there little lady, where's the fire?"

"Central Park!" Rachel asserts, "They have horses!"

Santana slaps her hand over her face. "Sweetie? We're halfway across the city."

And suddenly Rachel is wrapped around her again. "I like it when you call me sweetie," she admits, whispering loudly enough that everyone in a five mile radius could have heard her. Scratch that. Probably _did _hear her.

But Santana's smiling too broadly to give a fuck. "Good," she rubs her thumbs against Rachel's hip bones, sillily kissing Rachel's nose _only _because she's still drunk, okay? "Cuz I'mma do it as often as I can."

The cowboy whistles and a cab immediately pulls in front of the girls.

Santana mumbles, "Thanks, uh?"

"Everyone calls me Bobby." The man waits, almost expectantly.

Santana is about to smile and dismiss him, but just as she turns, the neon sign from the bar catches her eye and she asks, "Wait. Bobby? As in the Bobby of this bar? Bobby's Barn?"

He winks and like any good mannered cowboy, he says, "Ya'll come back now."

Rachel is smiling unaffected and says, "We certainly will," and when she sits in the cab next to Tina she finally sees the same sign and squeaks, her eyes wide and stricken, "Oh my god! You're _Bobby_! Oh my god, Santana! We defiled his bar! In _your _bar. Oh sweet Barbra."

Bobby is heartily laughing and helps Santana into the cab. When all three girls are safely in the cab, he gives the cabbie some cash for the ride home. Then, pausing before stepping back, he clears his throat and nervously pinches the brim of his cowboy hat he'd picked up at some point during the night, "Uhm, your friend. Tina. She's single, right?"

Santana laughs, smirking. "She damn better be, seeing as she was hanging _all _over you." Then, taking pity on him because, well, he really _was _a sweet guy, cowboy or no, she nods. "Yeah, she's single."

He smiles and nods in appreciation.

Then, interrupting anything else, Rachel suddenly yells, leaning into Santana, "I am so hot! I need to take off my clothes!"

Santana tries not to show how that mental image is playing with her, and she wiggles her fingers at the man who'd seemingly made everything happen that night, "Okay, right, bye Bobby. I'll bring cowgirl Cohen-Chang back soon. Cabbie?" Santana groans as Rachel's hand finds its way in between her legs, fingers slapping over hers, "Yeah, like, _book it_."


End file.
